


Whisky Confessions

by SaintDionysus



Series: Confessions [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: F/M, What-If
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-05
Updated: 2016-11-05
Packaged: 2018-08-29 06:40:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8479144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaintDionysus/pseuds/SaintDionysus
Summary: With a bit of liquid courage in the form of aged Scotch whisky, Draco finally confesses something to Hermione.This is the original one-shot that launched the whole Confessions Story. Probably riddled with typos and errors. I posted this for posterity—see where the story started and how it built this world in my head.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So let me preface this with I was never a Dramione shipper. As school kids, they had way too many obstacles in their way to ever want to pursue a relationship. I think we’ve all seen that guy or girl we thought, yeah they’re really cute, but yeah, no. Not going there. But in Cursed Child, I really love the adults that Draco and Hermione grew into. She learned to relax and not be so wrapped up into the rules and his emotions became less compartmentalized and became a good father. These two versions of some of our favorite characters, I was really interested in. Some of this text might be a little bit inspired by Love Actually. So let me know what you think of mid-life crises Draco and Hermione.

It was the evening of Rose and Scorpius’s engagement party. Both Draco and Scorpius wanted to make a very public declaration that the pureblood Malfoy line was coming to an end by hosting the party at Malfoy Manor. Ron and Hermione were a bit hesitant with the venue choice. The last time the two of them were at Draco’s home, it was being used as Death Eaters headquarters and the events that transpired had terrible, traumatic effect on everyone. But as Minister for Magic, Hermione decided that allowing The Malfoys to host this event was a way to show that prejudices against muggles, Muggleborns, and half-bloods were becoming a thing of the past. Ron did not share Hermione’s tact for diplomacy and was still a bit salty that his only daughter was going to become a Malfoy, despite how much he actually liked Scorpius. **  
**

The guests had started to arrive. Draco, Ron, Rose, and Scorpius were welcoming everyone when Rose realized her mother was missing. “Draco. Dad. Have either of you seen Mum?”

“No sweetheart,” Ron told his daughter but was whisked away into a conversation before he could say anything else.

“I’ll look for her. The two of you just stay and entertain your guests.” Draco had a sneaking suspicion where she might be and sets toward the old dungeon entrance. There she was standing in front of the stairs that lead down to where her friends were kept while she was tortured.

“Granger. I mean, Hermione.” She looks up and the pallor on her face says it all. Draco’s heart sinks knowing that being in his home is causing her such distress.

“I just can’t be in the Great Room just yet.  It’s just. It’s just…” Her voice trails off and his mind flashbacks to visions of his aunt using the Cruciatus curse repeatedly on her in that room. Her screams of agony still haunt his nightmares.

“I know being here is hard. I think about it all the time. There is so much I regret about that day.” He meets her eyes and tries to show her sincerity. She tries to force a smile, but she is still a bit rattled. “You know, everything is locked up down there. All my family’s dark artifacts, all locked under glass and the door is sealed by blood magic. If I am ever tempted to even look at those items, I have to cause myself physical harm. I’ve only been in there twice. After Astoria died to put away all my alchemical research and then to retrieve the time-turner.” He then shows her the scars on his hand.

“Why do you have scars? Didn’t you use dittany?” She asks puzzled, yet somewhat relieved knowing that this part of his family’s past is locked away from Draco’s present and Scorpius and Rose’s future.

“I wanted to be able to see the reminder.” Now his own complexion is changing and he looks full of shame. As far as the rest of his appearance, Draco cut his hair, which thankfully the platinum blonde hair easily hides the grays, and shaved off his beard for the occasion—attempts to regain some sense of his youth. The reality his son was already engaged to be married made him feel a bit old. Though he has grown in age, his sense of style was timeless. He wore a well-fitted suit with a fingertip long jacket, green brocade waistcoat, and ascot. Time had been good to him and he managed not to stay lean despite recently turning 50. Before him, Hermione was also revealing a bit of her age. Though still beautiful, the stressors of her job were beginning to take a toll. She has developed soft frown lines and a streak of gray that ran from her hairline and was swept into an updo. A few years ago, Hermione developed a terrible sweet tooth that caused her figure to fill out. Thankfully, she discovered yoga and meditation to help her deal with her job, which also resulted in her being in the best shape she’s been in for years. For the occasion, she was wearing a beautiful, high-collared, red velvet overcoat with a train. It is embellished with gold embroidery and the coat fastens with a half-zip at the bodice, over a simple champagne satin, floor-length, a-line dress.

Draco starts, “How is it that we haven’t been to school in over thirty years and we are still wearing house colors?”

Hermione looks down at herself and begins to laugh. “At this point, I think it’s more subliminal than anything else.”

“Would you like a drink to help calm your nerves before heading out to the party?”

“Yes. I think that would help.”

“Jollie?” A sweet looking house elf in a miniature version of a black maid’s uniform complete with white frilly collar and white apron appears.

“Yes, Master Draco?”

“Can you please bring me and Minister Granger a bottle of champagne?”

“Stronger.”

“Really? Okay, please get the Glenglassaugh 55 year single malt and bring it to the library. Also, please tell Rose and Scorpius where we are and that the Minister just needed a moment.”

“Right away, sir.”

“Well, she is quite the well-dressed house elf.”

“And well compensated, I might add. Trying to correct my family’s misfortunes with the household staff.” Another bad memory pops into Hermione’s head; Dobby’s lifeless body struck down by Bellatrix’s dagger. Hopefully, something to drink will suppress the old memories.

He escorts her into the library and they take a seat on one of the large sofas facing the fireplace. “Are you cold?” He asks.

“A bit.” He shoots a fireball into the fireplace and it instantly warms up the room. Suddenly there is a loud pop and Jollie has returned with the rare Scotch whisky. “Thank you, Jollie. What did the kids say?” Hermione smiles at the fact Draco refers to them as “kids.”

“They said for the minister to take her time and they were handling all the guests.” The cheerful servant reported.

“Thank you, Jollie. You may now return to your duties at the party.” He begins pouring drinks for the two of them, served neat. He hands Hermione a glass. “Cheers.”

Before she takes a sip of the red mahogany liquid, she breathes it in and smells layers or figs and apricot and hints of blackberry, maybe even a little Belgian chocolate and intriguing hints of roast coffee. When it finally touches her lips, it’s mellow yet full-bodied. The whisky is rich, complex—fruity, herbaceous, and peppery. This was rare and special, almost too special to just help someone calm their nerves. “Draco. This is incredible. Where did you find it?”

“At £1000 a bottle, it better be incredible. A small distillery in Portsoy. It was dormant for almost twenty years and when it came back into operation, they found hidden barrels. They also use Tennessee barrels for their newer whiskies to add some bourbon nuances with scotch whisky.” Though a lot of his ideals have changed, he still has an air of snobbishness.

“You cannot put a price on good Scotch. It’s worth every exchanged galleon, knut, and sickle. Ron and I went to the Highlands last month for a weekend to visit some distilleries. The sod didn’t even appreciate it. Said all whisky tastes the same.” She scoffs thoroughly irritated at her husband. Draco smiles brightly. “And thank you. This is helping.”

“Well the next time Weasley passes up going on a distillery tour, I’ll join you. Collecting rare whisky has become a hobby of mine. I dare say it’s a much better hobby thanks collecting dark artifacts.”

“I would agree with you, but I think your liver would beg to differ. Then again, my liver isn’t that well off either.” They share a laugh and the tension is easing.

“Hermione. We’ve been friendly since the whole ordeal with the time-turner. But there is something I wanted to talk to you about, but have never had the chance.”

“Draco, you can say it. We are friends. Now, what is this you want to tell me?” She’s caught between the calm from the drink and the intrigue caused by the growing tension on his face.

He likes the sound of the word “friends” coming from her lips. He summons all the courage he can, takes a big swig of his drink and begins to release the weight of almost forty years of silence. “I’ve never apologized to you. To just you. I never apologized for how horrible I was to you in school.”

“Draco, that was ages ago. Yes you were a miserable git, bully, and entirely misguided, but that was thirty years ago. Did it hurt my feelings, yes, but we move on.”

“No Hermione. You cannot brush it off like that until I tell you everything.” He refills their glasses and takes another big gulp. Her eyes are wide and full of confusion. “I lived my entire youth in fear. Fear of disappointing my parents. Fear of what others thought about me. Fear of not living up to my duties. Fear of being true to myself. I was a bully, I berated you, and stood by when your life was threatened because I was scared.”

“Where is this going Draco?” She is slipping off her coat and begins fanning herself.

“Is the fire too hot?” He asks but is caught off guard when he sees her in the champagne satin gown. Though she was officially middle-aged now, she had taken care to maintain her figure.

“No, just the whisky. Go on. What are you trying to tell me?” She’s afraid to admit they were hot flashes. She too does not like to admit that she is getting older.

No more stalling, he thinks to himself. “I was a terrible ass to you because if I said it out loud, maybe I would believe it. Maybe I would believe muggleborns were the lowest of the low, like my father said, but you weren’t. You aren’t. What I’m trying to say is that you are the reason my father give Ginny The Dark Lord’s journal.” She is trying to put all these puzzle pieces together, but the drinks have made things a little fuzzy. “When I came home after my first year, my father deciphered my annoyance toward a brilliant muggleborn girl, who was the only student who had higher marks than me, was actually the only way eleven-year-old boys knew how to express they fancy someone.”

Her mouth has dropped open. “I’m sorry?” She says with a completely confused voice.

“My father wanted to show me that muggleborns had no place in our world. He didn’t admit to me the true reason for his involvement with the Chamber of Secrets until he was on his deathbed. He said he would rather have seen an entire school of mudbloods die, his words, not mine, than have his son think it’s okay to mix blood. I tried so hard to not pay you any mind, and I had myself convinced, until the Yule Ball. I couldn’t come up with a single reason to hate you at that moment. Ugh. I can’t do this.” He puts his head down and is staring at his glass. He runs his fingers through his hair in frustration, a nervous habit he’s had since he was young.

“Draco. What are you trying to tell me?”

One more sip then spit it out, he thinks to himself. “I was an ass to you because I liked you and I hated myself for it. I struggled with everything going on in my head. I almost mustered enough courage to save you, Harry, and Ron from this house, but I failed. What I’m trying to get to is, will you forgive the completely hateful, arrogant, cowardly boy who caused you so much trauma and heartache?”

The whisky must be getting to him because his words were becoming incoherent, then again, it was getting to her, too. “I forgave that boy when I realized he grew into the man before me who raised a boy as wonderful as Scorpius.”

The two of them lean close together and look as they are about to kiss, but he pulls away. He knows the alcohol is doing all the talking now. “Astoria was my once in a lifetime love. She’s the one who helped me find my courage and become the man I am today. After she passed, I never thought I could ever look at anyone else. But when I fought alongside you in that church, I became that schoolboy who couldn’t have what he wanted, again. I’m telling you this without hope or agenda. My wasted heart will spend the rest of my life loving the woman who saved me and the woman who was never meant to be mine.”

She is moved by his words, puts a hand on his cheek, and leans in to give him a single kiss. He then puts his hand on hers and their foreheads are touching. “That will be enough.” He says to her. “Are you ready to celebrate our children? Let them have the romance that I was denied.”

“We were denied,” she corrects him and his eyes meet hers as she was about to make her own confession, “I also thought about you that first year. Of course in the very innocent way eleven and twelve-year-olds do, but the way you treated me just broke my heart. But, you’re right. We were never meant to be, but this, this will be our one moment. I will cherish it.”

He kisses her once more and they stand up. He takes something out of his pocket, throws it into the fire and says, “Incendio.”

“What was that?”

“I had a question that I didn’t know if I wanted the answer to, but you answered it for me.”

“Was that the time-turner?”

“Yes. I should have destroyed it years ago but I wasn’t ready to, until this moment. Are you ready, Minister?” He has her coat out and she slips her arms into the sleeves.

“I think I am. One more drink for the road?”

“You sure you can handle it? You’ve already had two.”

“Draco, I’m about to walk into a room full of Ministry kiss-ups, elitist purebloods-including your ex-girlfriend, my husband, all our friends, after snogging my daughter’s fiancé’s father. Yeah. I need another drink.”

“Well, I wouldn’t call that snogging. That was more like pity kissing.”

“It wasn’t pitiful! It was reserved and right for the moment.”

He locked the door, grabbed her by the waist, and kissed her long and hard. Her chest was pounding and they were out of breath. “Now you can say I snogged you.”

“Draco?”

“Yes?” He was still holding her. He knew he pushed his luck with that and was a little astounded she didn’t slap him but was still hopeful.

“We should go join the party now. I’ll still take the drink, but I think I owe you a new bottle. I guess we will have to go to Scotland and get you one.”

“What are you saying?”

“I don’t know what I’m saying but I’m feeling something.” He held back from kissing her and pulled her into a tight embrace.

“Then let’s join the party and we can talk when you do know.” He held her face in his hands. It took almost forty years for him to get to this point. He never thought he had a chance. If there was something, patience was something he had plenty of. She didn’t have much lipstick left on her face as most of it ended up kissed on her glass. “How does my face look? Did you get any lipstick on me?”

“A little.” She wipes it off of him. He lets go of her and grabs their glasses and hands Hermione’s glass to her.

He presents his arm and she takes it. They leave the library and their children are walking toward them. From down the hall, it was as if they were looking back in time. Scorpius looks so much like Draco and Rose like Hermione.

“Mum, are you okay?” Rose says to Hermione.

“Yes, yes. Just a bit of anxiety. Had a few drinks with Draco.”

“Dad, is Hermione drunk?” Scorpius whispers to his father.

“No. Just enjoyed some whisky and some long overdue conversation,” Draco tells his son with a bit of smugness, but this tone utterly baffles his son.

“So are you ready to join the party? Dad and Uncle Harry are looking for you,” says Rose.

“Yes, we are right behind you. Just let us take our time walking. I want to enjoy the last of my drink before entering the lion’s den.” Hermione said to Rose.

“Okay, I’ll tell everyone you’re on your way,” Rose said looking a little bit disapprovingly at her mother. “Come on, Scorpius.”

“She is so much like you.”

“At times, yes, and painfully so.” They take the last few sips and place the glasses down on the nearest table. They are nearing the crowd and they can see her family.

“Ready?” He asks her.

“Don’t let me go until we are with my family.”

“Are you sure?”

“As far as they all know, we are in-laws supporting our children.”

“Okay,” he says to her, “I didn’t say this yet, but you look beautiful tonight.” It is something he has been waiting a lifetime to tell her.

“Thank you. You also look very handsome. Also the fact you don’t haven’t let yourself go like my husband makes you even more attractive. You know, I haven’t had sex in over a year.”

“Minister Granger, you’re making me blush. But, try ten years.” They both are laughing when they walk up to her family and their children.

“What’s so funny?” Ron says to the two of them.

Hermione reluctantly let’s go of Draco’s arm and takes Ron’s. “Oh just that Draco and I have already drunk £500 worth of whisky already.”

“I just don’t get whisky. What’s wrong with a pint?”

“Weasley, you need to learn to appreciate how beautifully complex whisky becomes with age. It needs to be savored and enjoyed, after being treated with longing and patience.”

“Nah mate, I’ll just take an ale.” Ron is completely clueless that Draco took a jab at him. It was not missed on Hermione. Her other hand brushes Draco’s hand and their pinkies lock.

They both think to themselves, was the stolen moment in the library the first and last time, or did it unlock something deeper?

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Confessions](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8143739) by [SaintDionysus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaintDionysus/pseuds/SaintDionysus)




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